


Day 29: Unable to get clothing off in time (Soulsborne Omovember 2020)

by MrsLittleleaks (MrsLittletall)



Series: Soulsborne Omovember 2020 [29]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Gwyn is an ass, NK is a good big brother, Omorashi, Pee, Urination, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27775516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsLittletall/pseuds/MrsLittleleaks
Summary: This work contains Omorashi which is a trope about pee desperation and wetting!Gwynevere doesn't like the feasts she has to attend... because she isn't even allowed to do something simple as taking a bathroom break.
Relationships: Gwynevere & The Nameless King (Dark Souls)
Series: Soulsborne Omovember 2020 [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994920
Kudos: 6





	Day 29: Unable to get clothing off in time (Soulsborne Omovember 2020)

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Because of the weird nature of Omorashi, I prefer to not rate the fic and I chose to not use archive warnings, so that you know that you will get into something that isn't exactly super wholesome or fluffy to a lot of people. Please leave now if you aren't into pee desperation, I am sure there are plenty of other stories that are more suited for you.

Another week, another feast. At least it felt like this for Gwynevere, the feasts her father were holding seemed to be more and more frequent. Gwynevere wouldn't mind them, she liked being in company and they were a good opportunity to look for a husband, but one thing really soured her mood whenever she attended a feast. 

Her father insisting that as a goddess of bounty and fertility and as the beautiful woman she was, she wasn't allowed to leave the room to relieve herself. This wouldn't be too much of a problem if not for the fact that these feasts would last hours on end. Over the years, Gwynevere had trained her bladder to hold in for a long time, but that still meant that she usually had to dash to the privy in her room once it was over. It was downright uncomfortable for her to hold it that long and she started to loath every feast for this exact reason. 

Gwynevere was unsure how long this particular feast already had lasted. Long enough for her to feel a twinge in her bladder, but not long enough for her to get desperate. Unfortunately, the feast was also rather boring and so she unintentionally took sip after sip from her beverage, not noticing that the moment it was empty it got refilled with a new glass and before she knew it, she was squirming around on her seat as she watched the people in the room. 

She could see Ciaran talking with Artorias, wondering when or if the assassin would finally admit that she had feelings for the charming wolf knight, who seemed to be completely oblivious about it. It might be just to protect her, but knowing Artorias, he probably was really oblivious about Ciaran's feelings for him. They seemed in good spirits and laughed about something, an inside joke or a story from the battlefield. Gwynevere wasn't a soldier, she was a healer, so their talk about battlefields were going over her head. She asked herself if she would fair good with a sword, but she knew her father would never let her try. She even was astounded that he was alright with Gwyndolin practising archery. 

Speaking of, her smallest sibling was sitting near to her father but huddled in a corner, they never liked these feasts, but not for the same reason as her, but because they were worried about their appearance, desperately hiding their legs and hoping that nobody would ask them to stand up. Sometimes they would cast an illusion to make them appear normal, but that would break as soon as they would “walk”. 

With a sigh at their similar and yet different situation Gwynevere's gaze wandered around another time, this time it fell on her brother, Gwynfor, who was talking to his first knight and dedicated dragon slayer, Ornstein. Ornstein seemed to be nervous and anxious about something, but that was normal for him. Most people didn't notice it, but she did. She had watched people since she was a little girl. Ornstein mostly put up a persona when he acted as the dragon slayer and around her brother was one of the few times where he showed his true colours. It wasn't a surprise really, the two were a couple after all. A fact they hid from her father, of course. 

After a bit more talking Ornstein hurried out of the room and Gwynevere looked after him, longing she could just leave too. Every time someone left the room, often looking uncomfortable and came back looking much more relieved and fresh, she felt a pang in her bladder. She had forced herself to stop drinking from her beverage an hour ago, but that didn't magically empty her bladder, just didn't fill it up more. 

Her situation was becoming difficult. She looked down at her body and regretted that she had put on such a puffy dress for today's feast. It was winter in Lordran and while the cathedral was kept warm, it wasn't warm enough for her usual garbs, which were suited for much hotter weather. The dress she had put on was beautiful and fancy, but also difficult to put on, several of her maidens had helped her in. There wasn't any way how she could undo any pressure the dress was applying to her bladder. 

Did she had to sit here for several more hours, completely miserable while desperately trying not to wet herself? She almost felt at the end of her rope and if her father would find out she would have wetted herself, he surely wouldn't reconsider his rule but just belittle and berate her for not being a beautiful goddess. Granted, she never saw her father leave the room either, but just because he apparently had a bladder that was made of steel didn't meant that he should expect the same thing from his children. 

“By the flames, seems like I have another person who needs to pee.”, Gwynfor whispered in her ear, making Gwynevere twitch slightly and trying to cross her legs as she felt a few drops leaking out in her panties, failing because of the nature of her dress. 

“Another person?”, she whispered back, grateful that Gwynfor had caught up on her blight. It wasn't the first time her brother had saved her guts... and her dress as well as her dignity. 

“Ornstein.”, Gwynfor said. “It's apparent he has to go but he still worries about people judging him for it, not wanting to leave. I swear, this knight took pee shyness to a whole new level.” 

Gwynevere had to chuckle a bit at the remark. Ornstein was truly the one guy she had seen who often would ignore using the privy and go somewhere else when she only caught sight of him near them. 

“The fact that he's not back yet means that he waits for them to be completely unoccupied.”, she said and straightened herself up, whimpering a bit at the pressure in her bladder. “So, Gwynfor, how do we get out this time?” 

“Just don't say anything and let me act.”, Gwynfor grinned. 

Gwynfor suddenly put up a distressed face and poured his wine glass on the floor just next to her as he yelled: “Oh no! Dear sister, I am sorry to have soiled your beautiful dress! We need to clean this up right away before it stains!” 

He then took her hand and whispered: “Now, Nevy!” 

The both of them hurried out of the room before anyone could see that there wasn't a stain on her dress and nearly ran down Ornstein who just returned to the feast and turned around to look at them baffled. 

After they were far away from the feast, Gwynevere had to stop: “Gwynfor, wait, I need a moment.” 

Gwynfor let go of her hand and now that she wasn't judged anymore, Gwynevere put up a full blown potty dance. “Ugh, I have to go soooo baaaad... Why won't he ever let me leave? My bladder feels like it could pop any moment!” 

“I take this as that you are very desperate, Nevy.”, Gwynfor said. “The usual privies are just around the corner, shall we go there?” 

“No.”, Gwynevere said, “The risk of someone seeing me there is too great. Though I doubt that I will make it to my room.” 

“Then let's get to mine, it's closer.”, Gwynfor offered and took her hand again, hurrying with her through the hallways of the cathedral, but being gentle to not jostle her overfilled bladder too much. 

In front of his room Gwynfor unlocked it and ushered her inside: “Alright, Nevy, go go go, the sooner we are back the better. And we can't forget to splash some water on your dress so it looks like we cleaned it up.” 

“Alright.”, Gwynevere said and hurried in the room as quick as her dress allowed, making a beeline for the privy, already preparing to lift her skirt when she realized she wouldn't get out of the dress on her own. 

“Gwynfor! A little help!”, she yelled and her brother practically flew in the room. 

“Shit, your dress!”, he gasped out when he saw her standing in front of the privy, hurrying over, struggling with it. 

“How did you even get this on?”, he hissed through his teeth as Gwynevere fought her bladder. Being so close to the privy made the task of holding incredible difficult and she could feel another leak dampening her panties. 

“With the help of my maidens and would you please hurry?! I am so close to losing it!”, Gwynevere hissed back a bit more aggressive than intended. 

“I am _trying_. These hands were made for holding a weapon, not for undressing dresses.”, Gwynfor whined. Of course, he was an unrivalled master of arms and god of war indeed, but helping his sister out of a dress was completely out of the question. 

“Rip it down if you must, I am about to pee myself.”, Gwynevere screamed. Right at this moment she felt warmth flowing down her legs and gasped. “Oh, no no no...”, she said as she hurried over to the privy, realizing that with her dress she couldn't sit on it and had to helplessly stand there as her bladder put out tremendous amounts of urine, staining the floor and the edge of her dress. 

“Oh shit, Nevy, I am sorry...”, Gwynfor stood next to her, looking like a beaten puppy, taking a step back. As Gwynevere looked down she noticed that the puddle on the floor had expanded greatly. She sighed, both in relief and in frustration. 

“It's not your fault. It's our father's fault.”, she hissed. “You only tried to help me, but because of his stupid rule I am pissing in my dress and on the floor of your room.” She felt tears well in her eyes and broke out in a sob, the stream coming from her still going strong, drenching her legs and completely soaking her feet. 

“I am sorry nonetheless, I should have noticed sooner. Not after you were already bursting.”, Gwynfor said, back turned to her, apparently waiting until the flood inside of her was finishing pouring out. “You don't have to worry about cleaning up, I'll do it for you, but... what about your dress...?” 

Gwynevere sighed again as her release ceased to a trickled and stopped. At least she was empty, but she ruined a dress, peed on the floor of Gwynfor's room and was more than mad at her father. 

“Can you get me a new one from my room? And something to clean me up? You told them that you accidentally put wine on my dress, they will just assume that we couldn't clean it and I had to put on a new one.” 

“Understood.”, Gwynfor said, accepting the key that Gwynevere gave him for her room. “Don't go anywhere.”

“Where should I go like this, covered in pee?”, Gwynevere gave Gwynfor a sad smile. Once he had left the room, she stepped out of the puddle she had created, regretting it when she realized she left wet foot steps, but she simply didn't want to stand in the warmth of her own urine anymore. Gwynfor returned not too much later with a new dress, a bucket with warm water and a wash cloth. He helped Gwynevere out of the dress by ripping it in half, just like she had suggested earlier. 

“Well, now it is completely ruined.”, Gwynevere grinned as she took the wash cloth and carefully cleaned the pee of her legs and feet while Gwynfor dried the floor. 

“It's amazing how much you can hold.”, he commented as he put down a fifth towel. 

“Years of practice.”, Gwynevere grimaced. 

After she was cleaned up and had put on a new dress and new underwear, luckily Gwynfor had thought about it, she felt much better. “I surely can handle the rest of the feast now.”, she said. “Gwynfor, thanks... even when it didn't end well.” 

“Don't mention it.”, Gwynfor said. “And remind me to help you out next time before five hours have passed.” 

Gwynevere chuckled and locked arms with her brother: “I will!”

**Author's Note:**

> I live for supportive sibling relationships.
> 
> Only one left... have you enjoyed the Omovember this year? Tell me in the comments. And of course feel free to read them outside of November too, this is an archive after all.


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